Keep Yourselves in the Love of God

-But you, beloved, building up yourselves in your most holy faith and praying in the Holy Spirit, keep yourselves in the love of God, waiting for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ that leads to eternal life. -Jude 20-21 ESV

In recent days I have found myself coming back to this phrase in Jude: "Keep yourselves in the love of God." This certainly does not mean that God's love for me is variable or that I have to earn it. God's love is a burning light around me at my best and at my worst. Jude must mean that I have a responsibility to line up my subjective inner response to God with the objective reality, so that I walk in spiritual health. I, like many, have been beset during my Christian journey with the distractions of the world, the flesh, and the devil, that breed fear and disappointment and unreal expectations that have kept me from resting in the truth of the love of God consistently. The Bible describes the Christian life as warfare, and this struggle, this "striving to enter the rest," is the front line. I don't think my experience is unique.

Somewhere I have a plaque that says, "We crucify ourselves between two thieves: regret for the past and fear for the future." These are two of the enemy's weapons, and they are useful to him as I age, because I have more of a history to regret, and more infirmity to fear. Knowledge of God's love is their only antidote, a love which turns regret into strengthened character, and fear into hope.

Jude gives some practical ways to keep ourselves in the love of God, in a string of participial phrases. Let's take a look at them.

"... building yourselves up in your most holy faith..." I do not think Jude is primarily referring to my own inner faith here. That would be a redundancy. Inner faith only increases as it contemplates that which is other. The subjective responds to the objective. So I take "faith" here in the sense of "the faith," the body of truth that Paul refers to in 1 Corinthians 16:13 and "the faith" encompassed in Jesus' initial message: "Repent and believe the gospel." To repent means I assent to my own depravity; it means I assent to God's right to be offended by it. To repent means that I accept the immutability of God and his unbending unwillingness to grade on a curve or be the tolerant old grandfather of popular theology.

But then I am called upon to "believe the gospel." There I discover a wonder that far outshines mere tolerance: GOD MEETS HIS OWN DEMAND. God becomes incarnate. God dies. God assumes the judgment. God buries judgment in the tomb. God comes to life with his arms opened wide. That is the gospel, and in it I find the love of God of which Jude speaks. This is what I am called to contemplate over and over. Here is freedom. Everyday I am called to again "repent and believe the gospel." And when I do I am kept in the love of God.

"...praying in the Holy Spirit..." Some may limit this phrase to praying in tongues, and while that has value, I would not limit it to that. I find that when I pray my mind is constantly chattering; in fact, I talk to myself far too much. To pray in the Spirit is to enter a place of quiet in which I can hear him speak. I have found recently, and far too late in my life, that if I quit reasoning and ask God for a solution to a problem or a question, he really does answer (we don’t receive because we don’t ask). My responsibility is to be quiet enough to hear the Spirit’s voice. And when I do hear, his reply is always related to the gospel and the love of God. Ultimately, that love is the answer.

“...waiting for the mercy of the Lord Jesus Christ that leads to eternal life...” This of course does not mean that God’s mercy is only in the future, or that his mercy towards us increases over time. It does mean that God’s mercy will never fail, and that the mercy we receive in the gospel will reach its objective in our perfection and freedom from sin. The present mercy of God is eschatological. A perfect ending leads to hope, and hope verifies that “God’s love has been poured into our hearts” (Romans 5:5).

Summary: Jude exhorted us to keep ourselves in the love of God because he understood the nature of the Christian’s battle against our regrets and fears that cause us to doubt that love. We can do so by meditating on both our own inability and the power of the gospel. Quietly hearing the Spirit’s voice and waiting patiently for the gospel’s consummation keep us focused on God’s love for us.

**May God’s Christmas blessing rest on those of you that read this. Let’s continue to pray for one another. This has been an eventful year for us--sold our house in Kodak, lived in an apartment for 6 months, moved to Charlotte on the tail end of hurricane Joaquin, jumped through all the usual hoops: tags, address changes, hanging pictures, finding places to shop, new church, new friends. You may not know that we are in a mixed community on the east side. Making friends and praying for an inlet for the gospel through real relationships. The job at the Billy Graham Library (part time) is one of the best I’ve had, but I am having some difficulty staying on my feet for long periods. More a matter of dizziness than pain. Anne is still doing her insurance business, keeping up with TN clients and a few new ones here. She is playing some tennis, but looking for permanent courts. We have found the parks in Mint Hill and walk a lot. David and Channon are in San Pedro, CA. They are doing great. Good job and location. Beth is likewise, and only 9 miles away. Blessing to everybody, Rick**

Immensity

O God, thou art terrible out of thy holy places. -Psalm 68:35

I glean most of my knowledge of science in waiting rooms. At a doctor's office last week I picked up a copy of the Smithsonian and tried to work my way through a description of post-Einstein physics, which I can summarize hazily in purely layman's terms. Like Charlie Brown, I can only see a chickie and a duckie. According to this article, Einstein's discovery that gravity bends light opened the door to the fact that gravity also bends space itself, and (this is very simplistic) "waves" of space are created by the gravitational influence of objects light years away, which we have the capacity to measure. I also read somewhere that space not only "bends," it is expanding. Let me say that again. Material objects are not just moving out from a central point in space; the universe, space itself, is expanding. My mind, which dwells in time and space, asks, though I try to prevent it, "into what?" Whoa.

In a National Geographic that I picked up in the barber shop I found an article about the opposite: inner or atomic space. This article reported that if the nucleus of an average atom were the size of a beach ball perched in New York City, the nearest electron would be in Philadelphia. That's a lot of empty space. What keeps my posterior from sinking into my chair is not matter at all; it is energy. This has something to do with E=MC squared. Again, whoa.

Now I believe these discoveries are manifestations of the work of God. I know the materialist will argue the opposite, and I do not have the skill for that debate. Creationist Ken Ham once pointed out that every time we push the majesty of God out to its limits in our minds, God ups the ante. That is certainly happening rapidly in our shifting understanding of the universe. As a Christian, I take the existence of such a God on faith (Hebrews 11:3), defining faith here not as mindless credulity, but as the power of truth that breaks through my sinful desire to have a meaningless universe so I can be God. Sorry that is pejorative to the materialist. But sin is a darkness that pervades everything. Faith is a gift that turns on the light.

I said my purpose here is not to enter into the creation debate. My purpose is to remind the Christian with just Whom he is in relationship. CS Lewis commented once that we should not be intimidated with mere immensity. I agree to a point, but sometimes contemplating God's immensity helps. I find it comforting, when I awaken early in the morning wondering if Social Security is about to mess up my Medicare D billing, to remember that the God who finds great joy in the Horsehead Nebula can most likely deliver me from my fear of bureaucracy. We give Him too little credit for His ability to carry out His preordained and loving purpose in our lives.

So far I have been speaking of what theologians call the economic nature of God--that which we know of Him based on nature and on revelation. But there is a deeper reality in God ( the "essential" nature), the reality that God only knows within Himself, and which we will begin to taste when death has purified us. We do not touch that reality well with our reason. We come closer to sensing His essence when we experience Love or Joy. There we sense an Immensity beyond comprehension.

I said earlier that my purpose is to remind Christians with Whom they are in relationship. For those of us who are believers, a reminder of the immensity and power of God is a comfort. But that is not all the story. That same God is as morally perfect as He is omnipotent. That means that flippancy and presumption have no place in our approach to Him. When, in His incarnation, He said "Repent and believe the gospel," that is what He meant. We are called upon to do both repeatedly. Repentance means to change one's mind, and is related to confession, which means to agree with God. It is the end of resistance and subterfuge, and is a great relief because it brings us into the stream of what God knows about us already. To believe the gospel means that everything necessary to our salvation and well being rests upon Christ and Christ alone.

Repentance and belief rely upon on each other. Repentance forces us to Christ, and the grace of Christ working through the gospel reveals the depravity that leads to repentance. Both are great and Immense works within us, comparable to death and resurrection. Repentance without the gospel produces melancholy and legalism; the gospel without deep repentance produces easy believism and a Jesus who is more like a cosmic Dr. Phil who exists to get us good parking places.

We never outgrow the cycle of repentance and belief. All our attempts to find other "lifes" beyond that cycle (deeper life, higher life, union life, the Spirit filled life, etc.) lead at least to disappointment and at most to idolatry. The all powerful God of Immensity uses repentance and belief to work Immense change in us. "For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ."

What Is Discernment?

When I was a young pastor, there was a new convert in our church who realized that he had been chosen to be one of the two witnesses mentioned in Revelation 11. I had some issues with this, because while he was enthusiastic about breathing fire, he showed some reluctance about being killed and having his body exposed in the street for three and a half days. In addition, I have known at least four of these future witnesses, and by the rules of simple arithmetic, somebody is wrong. I have not heard from this man for years, and I am assuming that he has matured, moved on in the faith, and has given up nonsense.

Why is this? Why do Christians wander into strange teachings and just plain foolishness? One reason is that some are not grounded in the Scriptures. The answer to that is good teaching and sound study habits. Another reason is youth and immaturity. The answer to that is mentoring and a lot of patience. But there is a deeper reason why Christians are open to deception. James 1:14 says, "Each person is tempted when he lured and enticed by his own desire." The fact is that we are all sinners, and there is still in our nature the temptation to short circuit God's plan for us, to know mysteries that other Christians do not, and to pursue ideas and practices that are based on our own understanding rather than on a humble awareness of our need for grace. The assumption that we cannot be deceived is itself a deception.

Definition

The Bible calls the capacity to distinguish between God's light and our confusion "discernment." It is a fairly easy term to define. The Greek word most commonly used in the New Testament means to "judge through," to judge rightly, to perceive truth, or to distinguish between good and evil. Simply, it means to recognize the truth of God, both in doctrine and experience, and to recognize its opposites: error and deception in both our thoughts and actions.

But while defining discernment is fairly easy, practicing it is a more difficult matter. If it is the pursuit of truth, we then have to ask, "what is truth?" Where do we begin to build a foundation? The best way to know what is false is to know the "feel" of the real, just as bank tellers spot counterfeit bills by handling real money. So, where do we begin to define truth?

The Source of Discernment

As a Protestant believer I affirm the following as a basis for discernment: the heart of truth is the Word of God. The heart of the Word of God is the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ. The heart of the gospel is the unconditional love of God for His redeemed people. There is no better starting point.

To develop this idea, let's look at Paul's comments in Philippians 1:9. "And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with (in) knowledge and all discernment...." The word for discernment here is a bit different from the more common word. Basically, it means to perceive or understand, and to grow in insight through experience. The important thing is to see that the source of true discernment is love. Or to put it better, love is the soil in which discernment grows, the environment in which it flourishes. Discernment is only as strong as the love that supports it. Paul repeats this same idea in Ephesians 2:17-18: "...that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend (discern) with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth...."

That means that true discernment will be motivated by love, and the truth it seeks will manifest love (for God, for neighbor). We might even say that love contains within itself the power of discernment. This is especially true when we look at love's opposites. 1 Corinthians 13 tells us that love in not arrogant and rude, selfish and irritable, or vindictive. Any approach to doctrine or action that begins with the self is sure to breed deception.

The Apostle John points out another opposite of love: "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear." (1 John 4:18) Modern Christians are fascinated with conspiracy theories, signs of the end times, fear of the government, fear of the Illuminati, fear of Islam, and fear of secular humanism, all in spite of the fact that Jesus proclaimed that He had overcome the world and was the sovereign Lord of all history. When He described "people fainting with fear and foreboding of what is coming on the world," (Luke 21:26) He was speaking of unbelievers, not His ransomed people.

To base an attempt to discern truth or action on fear will lead to deception, and anyone who deliberately gives counsel or draws conclusions for other Christians on the basis of conspiracies, hidden agendas, or secret truths never understood before, is ministering fear, not the encouragement that comes from the Word of God and the presence of His Holy Spirit with us.

To summarize, discernment of God's truth and will is based on love, and grows from and with it. Where arrogance or fear are substituted for love, deception is not far behind.

The Fruits of Discernment

To this point, we have been defining discernment in terms of its source, its environment, or the soil in which it grows. Now continuing this analogy which treats discernment as a living organism (a tree or a plant), let's look at what discernment produces. What are its fruits? If these fruits, or results, are present, then there is a good chance that real discernment is operating. Paul lists four of these in the same passage we've been considering, Philippians 1:9-11.

First fruit: "...that you may approve what is excellent...." True spiritual discernment will strive to surpass distracting pitfalls and find not only the truth of God in a teaching or a situation, but the highest or the best. One Bible dictionary rightly translates "excellent" as "the thing that really matters." Therefore, discernment looks not just for the good, but for the best. This is one of the most subtle facts about discernment; it finds that the good thing is often a distraction from the best. That means that discerning an idea or issue takes time, and does not assume an immediate answer.

A good example of this is the temptation of Jesus. There was nothing innately evil in His desire to turn stones into bread. He was hungry, He was the eternal Lord of creation, which included stones and bread, and had a divine right to meet His human needs. We might say that the impulse was in some sense "good."

That's true only if we look at that impulse as an isolated event. But when it is put into the context of Satan's agenda, we see it as a prelude to a second impulse, the desire to prove His divinity by a supernatural act (throwing Himself off the Temple) that would short-circuit His Father's path to His glorification through humiliation. This attempt to exalt Himself outside the Father's plan would have led ultimately to the unthinkable adoration of Satan by the Son of God.

My point here is that something "good" may be a prelude to something far worse. True discernment by-passes the good to find the excellent, the "thing that really matters." As hard as it sounds, sometimes discernment has to wade its way from the "good" that may have pride lurking beneath it, to the best, which fulfils James' injunction: "God resists the proud and gives grace to the humble." (4:6)

Before moving to the next point, let me add a word of comfort. All Christians fail in discernment, and like all spiritual virtues, it must be learned. God still guides and controls our maturing. Moses failed in discernment when he killed the Egyptian in hopes of starting a movement that would free his people. Instead he was rejected by them and incurred the wrath of Pharaoh. The result was a time of separation in which he learned that God was the true deliverer, and that God needed a broken vessel more than he needed a zealot. God used Moses' failure to work true maturity and discernment in him. Be encouraged! God works the same way in all of us, and He is faithful to complete what He begins.

Second fruit: "...and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ...." Let's examine these words for a moment. "Pure" ("sincere" in the KJV) literally means to be judged or tested by the light of the sun. Paul says in 2 Corinthians 2:17, "...in the sight of God we speak in Christ." Discernment, therefore, is finding that which will stand up under God's gaze. In the first part of this verse, the apostles declares, "We are not, like so many, peddlers of God's word, but as men of sincerity...." Any esoteric revelation or hitherto hidden steps to spirituality that come with a price cannot stand the light of God's gaze; and any "truth" that is only for the specially enlightened appeals to the ego, and will remain obscure and avoid the light. True discernment will recognize the inherent darkness in both of these.

The other word that Paul uses in this phrase is "blameless," or "without offense." It literally means, "something that will not cause someone to stumble." Spiritual discernment recognizes that anything that damages a little one (believer) is deception, not truth. False teaching and practices leave in their wake believers who are depressed and guilt-ridden because they cannot achieve what is promised by having a secret revelation, more faith, or the key to victorious living. Holding out performance based acceptance feeds guilt and uncertainty, and leads the believer away from his humble rest at the feet of Jesus, who is his only and perfect victory. Anything outside the finished work of Christ for us is a return to law, and law brings bondage.

Third fruit: ..."filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ...." Righteousness does not mean our righteousness based on our efforts or works. It means the righteousness that is imputed or reckoned to us on the basis of Christ's substitution for us. Paul is referring to the same transaction that he describes in 2 Corinthians 5:21: "For his sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." God imputed (reckoned) our sin to Jesus, and he bore both sin and its penalty. Likewise God imputed the righteousness of Christ to us, and accepts us as His sons and daughters through Him.

True discernment will recognize that any teaching or practice that moves off gospel ground is deception. The gospel (the story of what Jesus has done and its application to us) saves totally. Puritan John Flavel wrote, "All that was to be done by way of impetration and meritorious redemption is fully done; no hand can come after his; angels can add nothing to it. 'That is perfected to which nothing is wanting, and to which nothing can be added.' Such is the work of Christ finished. Whatever the law demanded is perfectly paid; whatever a sinner needs is perfectly obtained and purchased; nothing can be added to what Christ has done; he put the last hand to it, when he said, it is finished." (Flavel, Works, The Fountain of Life, Kindle 11374)

There is no such thing as the gospel plus something, the gospel plus works, the gospel plus faith (faith flows from the gospel), the gospel plus a deeper revelation, the gospel plus a more surrendered life (the gospel compels us to surrender), the gospel plus social action. All additions to the gospel that intend to help save us are misleading. There is nothing higher, or deeper, or broader than the gospel, and all legitimate means of growing as Christians are part of it.

Unfortunately, evangelicals for years have been preaching the gospel as merely the first step on the Christian ladder. Supposedly, once we have passed it, we can move on to higher rungs. Instead of the sum total of all we are, the gospel is something we took care of back when we were born again. Michael Horton put it this way in Christless Christianity : "We got in by grace but now we need to stay in (or at least become first-class, sold-out, victorious, fully surrendered Christians) by following various steps, lists, and practices. There was this brief and shining moment of grace, but now the rest of the Christian life is about our experience, feelings, commitment, and obedience." (Kindle 120) Anything that calls us to a higher place in God that leaves the gospel behind is ultimately a move towards darkness and desperation. True discernment will always begin and end with the cross.

Fourth fruit: "...to the glory and praise of God." The word "glory" is almost impossible to define, because it is an attribute of an infinitely perfect God, who rules all His creation according to His sovereign will, and in addition reaches down to redeem and reconcile lost and rebellious sinners to Himself.

Our response to such a God is to "give Him glory." We usually identify this action as worship, and that is entirely appropriate. But the term can also mean "give Him credit" for everything He is and does. We give Him credit primarily in His dual role as Lord and Savior.

First, God is Lord, meaning that He is sovereign King over all the universe, over history, and over our individual lives. That means that any teaching that makes us responsible to save ourselves or solve our own problems or move in a self-motivated direction without His guidance is deception. Anything that implies that we are masters of our own fate is deception. Anything that calls us to do something for God, rather than His carrying out His plans through us is deception. "For from him, and through him, and for him, are all things."

Secondly, we give credit to God as our Savior. This has already been covered in our discussion of righteousness. So let me reiterate by saying that anything that removes Christ from His place as perfect and only Mediator between God and man is deception.

Summary

Spiritual discernment is the Christian's ability to distinguish truth from error, deliberate fraud, or nonsense (in teaching or in practice). It's tools are the Bible, experience, and the inner witness of the Holy Spirit. Discernment grows as the Christian grows, and is rooted and flourishes in love. The more love for God and man increase, the more discernment increases. Discernment protects us from missing God, yet at the same time God uses our failures to discern properly to mature us.

True discernment bears fruit, and that fruit is evidence that we are discerning correctly. True discernment will 1) choose the best instead of the good, 2) recognize what can stand the gaze of God and not cause another to stumble, 3) confess that all our righteousness is Christ's righteousness imputed to us, and 4) give glory to God as our Savior and Lord.

There is one question I ask when confronted with a new teaching or a new spiritual practice: "So what?" If the answer is not rooted in love, or if it fails to lead to the fruit Paul described in Philippians, it is deception.

More Thinking About Church

"Dad, I'm a wine and cheese girl in a beer and pizza town."

-My daughter Beth after moving from Charleston (SC) to St. Louis

I've called this blog "More Thinking About Church" because I think obsessively about the church, and this blog is more thinking about it. These thoughts grow out of a sense in the last few years of not quite belonging to said institution, and yet very much belonging, a paradox based on having trouble with different church structures. Anyway, I had an epiphany the other day, which some of you may choose to call a duh moment. I realized that during my lifetime I have experienced not one, but two types of church structure, and as I have begun to unmuddle them, I have reached, if not enlightenment, at least some degree of peace.

Constitutional Model

The first of these structures I want to call the "constitutional" church, meaning a church based on a traditional denominational system of theology, usually in written form, to which the leaders (clergy) owe allegiance, and of which they are representatives. This form covers a wide range of traditions. A Roman priest who is saying mass is not merely an individual who claims to be hearing directly from God; he is a representative of the whole weighty 2000 year history and dogma of Catholicism, and while he may express personal opinions, his primary vocation is to be an agent of the authority behind him. Likewise a Presbyterian pastor is (or used to be) a faithful spokesperson for Calvinism and the Westminster Confession. When I use the term “constitutional,” I therefore mean a church in which the tradition, history, and doctrine of an ecclesiastical body is more important than the vision or personality of its clergy. Normally constitutional leaders are trained in the theology of their respective denominations, biblical languages and exegesis, preaching, liturgy, and pastoral care and counseling, all of which are to be applied in the context of a higher allegiance.

A historic outgrowth of the constitutional church is (was) the parish model of church organization. In the parish system, one man shepherds a local congregation of laymen which is small enough for him to manage, and large enough to support him financially. He is not too concerned about church growth because it is accomplished by creating new parishes rather than expanding the membership of the local church. The priest/pastor knows his flock. He preaches, teaches, administers the sacraments, marries and buries its members. He knows his people, is in their homes, and is unhurried enough to sit on the porch and talk to brother Hobart about his wife, his kids, his job, his political and social concerns, and the weather. He does all this in the name of the Bishop, Presbytery, or Convention, and incarnates their invisible presence. This does not mean, however, that he is micro-managed. Within denominational limits, he has the autonomy to apply Scripture and doctrine to the needs of his particular congregation. His people are as much his study as Bible and theology. He is very much a man in the middle.

The greatest strength of the parish system is its sense of security, warmth, and longevity, based on the shepherd-sheep relationship. People in a parish church know their priest/pastor.

There are some problems, however. One is that when the shepherd-sheep relationship is broken, contention arises, because there are personal commitments involved. Barna tells us that the average stay of a second pastor in a Protestant church is about 18 months. He is already doomed because he is not number one. Pastor number three generally does well, because he is not number two, and is perceived as a healer after the turmoil blamed on number two. (I know some wise Baptist pastors who covet the number three spot.) The problem here is not personalities, but the system.

A second problem is staleness and resistance to change. Security resists spiritual renewal. This is often connected to what is happening in the general culture, and I will come back to that later.

A third problem occurs when there is a shift, inconsistency, or hypocrisy concerning the constitution of the larger body (in doctrine or practice). This has been an issue in the major Protestant denominations for decades. The result is contention and restiveness in local parishes. It destroys the sense of security and often sets parishioners at odds with their clergy. In this case unrest flows into the church from the top.

Fourth, mentoring of younger potential leaders is weak. This is because promising candidates for ministry are trained in denominational seminaries and sent to other parishes. Therefore, future ministry in the parish seldom comes up from the grass roots.

Apostolic Model

I have tried hard to avoid this term, but I am going to persevere with it. By "apostolic" I am in no way connecting it to Jesus Only Pentecostals, nor to Catholic apostolic succession, nor to "continuing church" Anglicanism. I am using it in the modern charismatic sense, describing a church founded and led by a highly gifted individual with a passion for renewal and a vision for what the church should and can be, with a capacity to gather followers who are infected with the same vision. We might call this individual an ecclesiastical entrepreneur, but I'm sticking with "apostle."

Apostolic churches are usually large and intend to keep growing. They are generally committed to multiplication by division; that is, as they grow they create sub-units or campuses which are themselves large by the parish standard. Leaders of sub-units are directly connected to the founder, and represent his vision. Leaders are consequently raised up within the local church structure, and mentoring is much more important than in the parish model. The most serious problem with the apostolic model is obvious. It centers on the vision and energy of one man. If he is solid doctrinally and ethically, the church will be. If he is in heresy, the church will be heretical. Consider the number of churches of this type that emphasize self-esteem, positive thinking, and faith as a metaphysical force to which God Himself must submit. Powerful leaders produce powerful ideas. Thank God for a handful of apostolic churches that are rooted in Reformation and/or evangelical mainline understanding of the gospel.

Another problem in this type of church is more subjective: Stress. Apostolic churches are by nature entrepreneurial, which means they can never sit still, but are always on the way somewhere, readjusting, and honing their vision. There is the underlying assumption that the Kingdom of God can always be done better, and that the church in time and space (read: parish model) has failed. Being a loyal member can be exhausting.

A third problem results from the large size of most apostolic churches: pastoral care. Leaders in theses churches are often stretched too thin, and the everyday shepherding of individuals (the strength of the parish model) suffers. The solution to this problem is generally small groups or house churches, overseen by laymen who have had some training, but not at the level of a parish priest or pastor. That means that there is no one in leadership who exactly fits the old role, and an unspoken (or forgotten) question is, “Who exactly is my pastor?”

A Balance?

Is there a way to combine these two structures? I personally don't think so. At least, not in any given time. But over time, there is a definite balance. Jesus mentored twelve men, who in turn mentored others. The expansion of the New Testament church was based on the mentoring principle. But within a generation, Jesus' mentorees were writing what became the constitution of the new movement, and it became the foundation of the early church parish system. The Reformation saw the rise of what I am calling "apostolic" men, and again, within a generation there were a host of written Confessions that became the basis of the Lutheran, Reformed, and Baptist churches.

Safe, secure, and prosperous times in a culture will support the parish system. Insecurity and the collapse of a moral consensus in a culture will see the rise of Christian entrepreneurs. I was raised in the parish system and trained in it. I would much prefer to sit on the back porch sipping lemonade, and looking at Hobart’s corn crop and the homes of his children on the edge of his land. But Hobart today is a different man. He is working two jobs to stay in the middle class, his wife has a home business, his son is struggling with his sexual identity, his daughter is in treatment for oxycodone addiction, and in place of the corn field is a new sub-division.

The culture is in foment, and the church follows. It is exhausting, and explains the exodus of a number of evangelicals to “high” churches, especially Orthodoxy. I know the tug, and the desire for peace in the storm. It reminds me of my favorite Joseph Sobran quote: “It is exalting to belong to a church 500 years behind the times, and sublimely indifferent to fashion; it is humiliating to belong to a church 5 minutes behind the time, huffing and puffing to catch up.” But culturally, we seem to be in an apostolic time.

But, oh, I do miss the old parish system in which I grew up, predictable and secure.